A Spark Of Inspiration
I thought;
I thought it would work. I thought I would work. But of course with my being a thirty-two year old failed author, no one really wants you around. I probably looked like some dirty hippy. One of those guys you'd find in Occupy Wall Street. But I was too lazy to show up. I probably smelled like a twelve year old boy coming home from summer camp, but multiply my age by the twelve year old boy's age to obtain the radius in which my odor would spread. Though I did take care of myself, I just assume to other people I smell bad, or I look dirty, or maybe it was all psychological. So before I made stops to the places that hadn't called me back about the jobs, and to new places to look for a job, I wore my nice corduroys, a new flannel, and an old coat passed on to me by my father. But shoes were a problem, all I had were old Adidas. No one looks at feet thought right?
Well, while looking in the mirror, I found I could definitely use a hair cut. I could probably shave. I did need to trim my nails though I didn't need a mirror for that, it was just a second thought after seeing my face. I should buy some floss and mouth wash as well, that tooth brush really does no justice. My glasses too weren't too hot. They were old frame-less ones with faded fake silver arms. I could definitely use a shopping trip. But I only had so much more money left in my budget. That is, until I finally make my literal peak, and people actually begin to like trashy novels.
I made do with my old D.I.Y. shaving kit, not just a plain old razor. Then I did a little touch up with my hair. You could now see my ears and I had bangs for the first time in forever. I started to look like what the grandfather of that teen age Canadian actor probably looks like. You know that geeky guy who knocks up that hot 17 year old girl or what ever? Well, I looked good to be honest. And this is a good thing to be coming up in my mind. I normally found myself to be quite repulsive. Odd I guess, coming from a grown man. But seriously, I looked a good two years or so younger. I still had my nappy shoes and cheep glasses, but I just had to deal with that.
With my slightly new look, what I would like to call my sexy professor age, I headed into town. My first stop was the grocery store. I thought I'd grab some mouth wash before making a stop to these places I had hope to become my future work place. Fresh breath and some flossed teeth seemed much more pleasing to want to hire than some dirty hippy with morning breath. So walking through isles of things pointless to obtain for my life-style, I finally came to find the personal hygiene isle. Then the question every man struggles to answer came up, Blue Ice or Spear Mint? I took both along with me while I looked for floss. There was only Spear Mint floss, so I took the safe road and settled for Spear Mint mouth wash as well. Mixing flavors never worked too well.
So I paid for everything and went to the restroom and fixed up my mouth and went to these various points of work interest. Actually, hardly interested, but the money sounded good. I found that they actually thought I was a dirty hippy, or some other uncomfortable form of human being. I found this by their kind actions as they realized who I was. They were hardly welcoming when my hair was longer and my pants were dirty. I told them;
"I've finally caught up with reality and the world around me I guess."
"So you were a writer, correct?" the elderly lady asks as I stand at the check out counter of the small sub shop.
"I was, yes. Though I happened to slip up on that one. People didn't like my book too much." I was never asked if I was a writer before. This was hardly what I thought it would be like. I thought maybe I would try to make myself seem all great for hosting a book signing or two. But I was actually trying to tell the truth.
"Well you seem to have a nice way with words." The woman has a name tag reading, Wanda, "I'll check the system to see if we've filled the spots Dear." She smiles at me reassuringly as if I was a grandchild of hers or a close family friend. Older people seem to do that. "We haven't filled all the spot yet Hun." She says looking up from the computer. "Thank you for stopping by though, it's always good to seem eager to get the job! You'll definitely be looked at in a higher light!" She smiles brightly. "Can I service you with a sandwich? see how to get the job done?" She tries to make jokes with me.
"I could do with some lunch." I smile back at her and look at the lonely ten dollar bill in my wallet.
I thought I'd be eating a full lunch that day, and be employed, but it seemed I was going with half a sub that afternoon; half a sub and a hand full of happy employers.
Well, while looking in the mirror, I found I could definitely use a hair cut. I could probably shave. I did need to trim my nails though I didn't need a mirror for that, it was just a second thought after seeing my face. I should buy some floss and mouth wash as well, that tooth brush really does no justice. My glasses too weren't too hot. They were old frame-less ones with faded fake silver arms. I could definitely use a shopping trip. But I only had so much more money left in my budget. That is, until I finally make my literal peak, and people actually begin to like trashy novels.
I made do with my old D.I.Y. shaving kit, not just a plain old razor. Then I did a little touch up with my hair. You could now see my ears and I had bangs for the first time in forever. I started to look like what the grandfather of that teen age Canadian actor probably looks like. You know that geeky guy who knocks up that hot 17 year old girl or what ever? Well, I looked good to be honest. And this is a good thing to be coming up in my mind. I normally found myself to be quite repulsive. Odd I guess, coming from a grown man. But seriously, I looked a good two years or so younger. I still had my nappy shoes and cheep glasses, but I just had to deal with that.
With my slightly new look, what I would like to call my sexy professor age, I headed into town. My first stop was the grocery store. I thought I'd grab some mouth wash before making a stop to these places I had hope to become my future work place. Fresh breath and some flossed teeth seemed much more pleasing to want to hire than some dirty hippy with morning breath. So walking through isles of things pointless to obtain for my life-style, I finally came to find the personal hygiene isle. Then the question every man struggles to answer came up, Blue Ice or Spear Mint? I took both along with me while I looked for floss. There was only Spear Mint floss, so I took the safe road and settled for Spear Mint mouth wash as well. Mixing flavors never worked too well.
So I paid for everything and went to the restroom and fixed up my mouth and went to these various points of work interest. Actually, hardly interested, but the money sounded good. I found that they actually thought I was a dirty hippy, or some other uncomfortable form of human being. I found this by their kind actions as they realized who I was. They were hardly welcoming when my hair was longer and my pants were dirty. I told them;
"I've finally caught up with reality and the world around me I guess."
"So you were a writer, correct?" the elderly lady asks as I stand at the check out counter of the small sub shop.
"I was, yes. Though I happened to slip up on that one. People didn't like my book too much." I was never asked if I was a writer before. This was hardly what I thought it would be like. I thought maybe I would try to make myself seem all great for hosting a book signing or two. But I was actually trying to tell the truth.
"Well you seem to have a nice way with words." The woman has a name tag reading, Wanda, "I'll check the system to see if we've filled the spots Dear." She smiles at me reassuringly as if I was a grandchild of hers or a close family friend. Older people seem to do that. "We haven't filled all the spot yet Hun." She says looking up from the computer. "Thank you for stopping by though, it's always good to seem eager to get the job! You'll definitely be looked at in a higher light!" She smiles brightly. "Can I service you with a sandwich? see how to get the job done?" She tries to make jokes with me.
"I could do with some lunch." I smile back at her and look at the lonely ten dollar bill in my wallet.
I thought I'd be eating a full lunch that day, and be employed, but it seemed I was going with half a sub that afternoon; half a sub and a hand full of happy employers.